


Dreams of a Better Life

by Tarlan



Category: Mutant X
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-07
Updated: 2007-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hector survives the inferno at the drug factory. Tag to the episode: The Taking of Crows</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams of a Better Life

Hector was not certain if it was a curse or a blessing but his mutant power was the ability to create fire and explosions. Whatever genetic anomaly ran through his body, it meant one thing - fire could not harm him. His body had an ability to resist the effects of fire as if his very skin was an asbestos suit.

The DXL racing through his body was another matter entirely. In normal humans, DXL was a highly addictive drug, better - or should that be worse - than heroin. In him, it was a killer, attacking his control of his mutant DNA, causing sparks to flash from his fingertips. His whole body was shaking as he inhaled the DXL dust covering his face, breathing in more with each cry of pain torn from his throat. He knew the highly combustible chemicals used to manufacture the DXL would be set off by the sparks but he could no longer control himself. He tried though. He had to stop this now or all was lost; all the hard work in setting up this factory would be wasted and all of the DXL manufactured and ready for distribution destroyed. Everything was here; the formula and the expensive materials, though the expertise required to refine the drug further would die with Sarah.

He needed the antidote if he was to survive this and some still sane part of him thanked the paranoia that made him keep one spring-loaded vial upon his body, requiring only a slap of his hand to send the antidote racing through his blood stream. He had forgotten it in those first vital seconds, lunging instead for the rack of vials and the injector only to be shoved away by the man that had distracted Sarah.

The chemicals combusted around him even as the drug seared through his blood stream, flames tearing through the building and consuming most everything in their path; everything except him. He cried out as the building's structure gave way, flaming timbers crashing down around him, covering him, pinning him down as flames licked at every surface. The snap of bone tore another scream from him and he cradled his arm against his chest as the fire raged around him, out of his control. He could feel his skin burning, with clothing melting onto flesh, could smell cooked meat that had once been his lover if only in body. Emotionally, he felt nothing for her and never had. She was supposed to have been his meal ticket out of fear and discrimination, supposedly helping him to control the rage in his mind and body caused by his mutation. She was supposed to have been his salvation. Her drug was supposed to have given him a new life not killed him.

The fire burned out quickly around him, pushed back by his own abilities, leaving him lying inside a circle edged in flame amid the ruins of the factory. He knew he was in danger of becoming trapped if the building collapsed any further. He had to get himself out of there before that happened so he tried to kick at the beam trapping his legs, tried to shove it away with one hand, hissing at the pain as melted cloth tore at his skin. It would heal though. The burns always healed, leaving smooth, unblemished flesh behind.

Flashes of childhood pain made him flinch, the accusation in his parents' eyes as they watched their home razed to the ground. An accident, a nightmare that had him losing control. The authorities had taken him away that night and no one had tried to stop them. Instead, he was passed from one institution to another, learning eventually that the only person he could trust or rely upon was himself. Sarah Stanton was just another in a long line of doctors who made him promises of a better life but at least she had been pretty and had come with fringe benefits. If the stupid bitch had only left the damn drug alone then they could have made a killing with this. They could have lived like kings, safe from the Genetic Security Agency and the other mutant eradication squads. Why had the stupid bitch taken her own drug? Why had she taken such a gamble with everything?

He shoved against the beam trapping him again but without success. Beneath him, the weakened floor was creaking. Fire could not kill him but his body was still frail and human enough to die in a million other ways, and being crushed to death was just one of those. Movement within the smoke and dust filled room had him calling out for help and he was surprised at how weak his voice sounded amid the crackle of fire and the creaking of the damaged building.

"Over here...please! Help me!"

As the smoke gave way around the figure, Hector recognized the half-masked man as the one who had confronted him in here earlier. Whoever he was, he had mutant abilities that made him shift through the fire with barely a scorch mark on his clothing. Hector watched as the man grabbed a metal support rod, setting it beneath the beam trapping Hector's legs to use as a lever.

"On three," he said, his words muffled by the strip of cloth around his nose and mouth, and he barely waited for a nod from Hector before he began the count. "One, two...three!"

Hector could hear the strain in the man's voice on three and worked quickly to wriggle free of the beam. As soon as he was clear, the man dropped the beam and reached for Hector, unwittingly grasping his broken arm. Hector cried out, his sight blanking out for a moment as the pain overcame him and by the time he had regained his senses, he was hanging upside-down over the wiry man's shoulder in a fireman's lift. The man staggered towards the exit, coughing hoarsely. Hector could hear other voices calling from outside and the man aimed towards them, finally stumbling out into daylight and collapsing into the arms of others. Hector cried out anew as they took him from their friend, jarring his arm in the process.

"Why's he still alive?" A woman's voice and another of the men answered.

"He's a molecular...with a healthy sense of paranoia." The other man pulled at Hector's singed sleeve to reveal the deployed spring-loaded injector.

"And a broken arm," the blond woman added, bringing another gasp from Hector as she manipulated the arm in question. "Let's get him back to the doc."

***

Hector recognized Doctor Marcus. The doctor had visited Sarah while she was trialling her so-called revolutionary drug that was supposed to control mutant aggression. Hector had hated the place, having been given no choice but to become one of her test subjects after he was caught using his mutant powers to set off an explosion. Of course, the military had denied employing him in that capacity, preferring to see him spend the rest of his life in an institution for the mutant criminally insane rather than admit that they were using mutants in their covert operations.

It took him almost a year to win Sarah around by flirting with her, by using his molecular ability to send more than sparks of flame through her body. He had pretended to worship the very ground she walked upon, even destroying her laboratory and 'escaping' with her when her experiment ultimately failed and people started to die. He had helped her set up a new laboratory, helped her refine the drug that had killed more than the one known mutant victim and dozens of humans too. He didn't care about normal humans though. He didn't care how many of them died. Let them all die, he thought bitterly because that is what they had wanted for him and his kind. That is what they still wanted.

All he had wanted was the chance to get away from all of them, to buy an island in the middle of nowhere and spend the rest of his days in isolation, soaking up the sun on a tropical beach.

The new drug racing through his veins made him feel sluggish and drowsy. It sapped away his strength and dulled the intensity of the pain as he shed the charred flesh leaving new pink skin beneath. It took away the ache in his arm too, leaving him too lethargic to even flinch as Marcus set the arm. Hector hated this feeling of floating out of control, unable to guide his thoughts enough to consciously create the sparks that were his only defense against the normals. His head lolled to one side as he heard approaching footsteps. The blond woman was standing there in a flowery dressing gown alongside the taller and darker of the two men.

"So what do we do with him, Brennan?" the woman asked. Hector wanted to tell her to let him go but his tongue felt three times too large in his dry mouth.

"He's a mutant."

Fear held him for a moment because he knew what the normals wanted to do to every mutant. They wanted to kill them, declaring them an abomination, a risk, and a danger to all life on Earth.

"He's a drug pusher," she replied angrily.

"We've all got dark pasts. What matters is whether he wants to change." Brennan looked straight into Hector's eyes. "Do you want to change, Hector?"

Even through the drugs, Hector could see that Brennan was not expecting a reply straight away, just letting him slip into a drugged sleep with that thought on his mind, perhaps hoping that his subconscious would play around with the idea while he slept.

As the drugs, the pain and the debilitating tiredness pulled him down, he decided it was a good thought to sleep upon.

END


End file.
